


To Be An Assassin

by Booklover4life



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Death, Gen, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I promise there's plot though, No really he is, Violence, but mostly just to his enemies, everyone's scared of ja'far, i don't know yet, i love that that's a tag, it's assassin!ja'far okay, it's only AU if you want it to be, ja'far is an assassin, ja'far is scary, maybe a lot, mentions/allusions of torture, sinbad is terrified, some language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:48:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9385898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Booklover4life/pseuds/Booklover4life
Summary: Sinbad gets attacked in the middle of his own throne room by a group of unknown assailants. This, naturally, pisses Ja'far off in a major way. Nobody really needs them alive, right?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, and welcome to To Be An Assassin! This is the first story I've written, so I'm a little nervous... but it's okay, because I had to get it over with sooner or later, right?
> 
> I had a plot bunny for this after reading a chapter of a SinJa drabble fanfic. The chapter was called 'Two-Faced Ja'far', and it was basically about Ja'far actually still secretly being a foul-mouthed assassin under his mask of Sindria's well-mannered Head Advisor, and Sinbad, Hinahoho, and Drakon being terrified. It's hilarious. Anyway, after that I was just kind of wondering... what if Ja'far really is still an assassin underneath it all? Then it struck me that if he was, he probably wouldn't be happy about someone trying to kill Sinbad, and given how many enemies they have, that's bound to happen and keep happening. And so the plot bunny was born. I really, really wanted a fanfic about it... so I decided I'd write it myself. Without further ado, Chapter One!
> 
> * - * = Ja'far's thoughts

*What-?*

Walking through the corridors of Sindria's spacious palace, a pile of scrolls in his arms, Ja'far almost stumbled on the way to his office. The walls shook, the floor trembled, and he heard the unmistakable sound of a muffled explosion. Normally he wouldn't have paid attention- Yamraiha's experiments with storing magoi often had rather explosive side effects, and the Generals' spars were frequently… destructive. Normally Ja'far would have rolled his eyes and kept walking. Normally he would have complained a bit, and scolded whoever was responsible later, after he'd finished his paperwork. Normally, the blast didn't come from the direction of the throne room.

*Sin!*

Ja'far dropped the scrolls, barely noticing how they bounced and rolled along the hall in favor of drawing his weapons. He was already halfway down the corridor, bolting for his king as fast as it was physically possible for him to do so. Please let him be okay. He has to be okay! He skidded into the throne room in less than half the time it usually took him to get there. Ja'far scanned the room as he entered, noting with relief that Sinbad, while looking surprised, confused, faintly annoyed, and Equipped into Baal, was unharmed; the crater in the wall opposite him told him what the explosion had been from. Sharrkan was there as well, his drawn sword dropping warily out of a defensive position and streaked with slight traces of blood. And the glass from the east windows were broken, their silk curtains swaying in the breeze.

Ja'far darted over to a window, peering out just in time to see the last few men- dressed in muted red and black and cursing Sinbad's name- disappearing into the mess of the city's back streets and alleys. He stowed his sparking knives back in his sleeves, squashing the tiny amount of disappointment that rose up inside him that he hadn't gotten to slaughter- sorry, fight- them. *Now that I know the immediate danger is out of the way, time to find out exactly what they thought they were doing.*

"What happened?" Ja'far demanded, turning to his king. "Who were they? Did they say why they were here? What did they want? Sin, what did you do?" Sinbad hastily held up his hands in surrender, dropping his Djinn Equip as he did so. "Whoa, whoa, slow down, Ja'far! I can't answer everything at once. And wait a minute," the king added, wounded. "What do you mean, what did I do? I had nothing to do with it! …This time. Probably. I mean," he continued, as the rest of his Generals burst into the room, ready for battle. "I've been responsible lately! I've only been drunk a couple of times the past month, I've stayed out of taverns, I haven't seduced any women away from their husbands, and I've even been doing my paperwork!"

*Miracle of miracles.* Usually it was a pain in his ass to get Sin to do paperwork; the king would whine, complain, and procrastinate until Ja'far was ready to tear his hair out. Or commit regicide. At that point, Sinbad would usually relent and get it over with; he did have some self-preservation instincts. Contrary to popular belief. However, he admitted to himself reluctantly, Sin was right; he had been unusually well-behaved recently. Enough so that this recent, violent outbreak of unrest was most likely not his fault. As hard as that is to believe. "If it wasn't your fault," Ja'far started, eyes narrowing dangerously, "then why were they attacking you?!"

"I don't know! I was just wandering around with Sharrkan, you know, chatting with him about- um," Sinbad coughed, then rushed on before his advisor could do anything more than contemplate maiming him. "Anyway, we walked in, and then about fifteen of them broke through the windows. They attacked almost as soon as they got through- I barely had enough time to Equip Baal. There was a lot of screaming and yelling, I didn't catch most of what they said," He said apologetically. "But what I did hear… something about the palace not being as secure as we think. I don't think we have a spy; they could have just meant our guard's not as tight a perimeter as it needs to be." The king finished his briefing with a hopeful, almost pleading look at the gathered Generals.

"I gathered about the same," Sharrkan put in. "But at the moment, they're running; shouldn't we go after them? If they do have a spy in the palace, it shouldn't be too difficult to discover who it is once they're apprehended." Masrur nodded, and Ja'far made a sound of agreement. We can't let them get away. They'll have more time to regroup and attack again! But Yamraiha narrowed her eyes and hmmphed. "We can't just go running after them unprepared! Yes, we need to find and stop them, but it would be easier if we hung back and tracked them with magic." She crossed her arms. "Not that I would have expected that to occur to you." Ja'far inwardly groaned. *Great. Now it's just going to devolve into an argument… yes, there they go.*

Sometimes the childishness of the other Generals made him want to slap sense into them. Other times it made him want to murder them all and make it look like an accident. *Oh, how horrible, I suppose I'll have to rule Sindria and protect it all by myself now… I'm sure I could do a better job than these losers.* But if he were honest with himself, that wasn't what was really bothering him. Really, bothering wasn't a strong enough word. There was a cold fury coursing through his veins, making him clench his fists so his hands wouldn't tremble in rage.

Whoever those men had been, they had attacked this palace, which he had made his home. Attacked Sindria, the country he'd shed blood, sweat, and tears to help build. But most of all, what was completely and totally unforgivable in Ja'far's eyes- they had attempted to kill Sinbad. *My king. The man I vowed to follow, fight for, and protect. The man I've killed for, who I would die for, who literally saved my soul- they tried to murder him. To extinguish his brilliant, blinding light from this world forever.*

*I'm going to kill them for that.*

Certainty, laced into every word of that thought. He didn't care what the other Generals would argue out and eventually decide on. Didn't care about the time it would take, the amount of work he'd have to take care of tomorrow because it would probably take the whole day. These men had tried to harm his king. If Sin had been any less used to lethal danger… they might have succeeded. *And that is unacceptable.*

Ja'far stood perfectly still a moment longer, letting the voices of his bickering friends wash over him as he wrestled his murderous anger into a clear, cold focus. Then he quietly and determinedly turned around, left the room, and headed to his quarters. He felt more than saw servants scattering out of his path, his aura blazing a warning that anyone who got in his way would meet a swift and bloody end. Upon reaching his chambers, he went straight to his wardrobe, shrugging off his First Advisor's robes as he went. In the bottom of it, hidden under a false board, were the items he'd quietly purchased and stowed away for exactly this purpose, should they be needed.

The clothes were light, comfortable, and unrestrictive; they were also dyed in shades of black and grey, to better blend into the shadows. He pulled them on quickly, and checked his weapons, making sure they were properly wrapped and the edges were expertly sharpened. He gathered a few coins and a water skin, and tucked into his belt, out of the way. Then Ja'far slipped out of his rooms, and back to the throne room, habitually keeping to the darkened alcoves and ducking behind columns out of sight of various members of the palace staff.

Back in the throne room, the others were still fighting amongst themselves. Ja'far rolled his eyes, pulling a dark cowl around his face to hide his distinctive features, and strode over to one of the windows the group of assailants had both entered and exited through. He stopped, and hesitated a heartbeat longer, glancing back at his king. "Sin, I'm going out," he called, making up his mind. Then, not bothering to wait for a response, he quickly turned and lowered himself out the window, dropping lightly onto the ground below. He darted over to the street Sinbad's attackers had turned down, and easily slipped into the mindset of a Sham Lash Chief Assassin. He needed to track these bastards down, and with his skill set- even if he hadn't used it in a while- it shouldn't take long at all for him to find them. *And then I'm going to slaughter them for daring to even consider touching that which is precious to me.*


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * - * = thoughts

Ja’far stalked them through the capital’s back alleys, following slight traces of blood, murmured directions from his network of informants, and his own intuition. There honestly weren’t a lot of places a group of over a dozen people could go to ground, and at least half of the options running through his mind were either too bold or wouldn’t even occur to unprofessionals. *And these men are definitely unprofessionals. Not only did they retreat too quickly- it’s difficult to overwhelm or even just match a master swordsman and a Metal Vessel user, but it’s not impossible- but it looks like the fools didn’t even attempt to cover their tracks! There are bloodstains, for Solomon’s sake. In hostile territory, after a failed murder attempt. It won’t even be a challenge to kill them.*

So. Since they were amateurs, they would be operating under the impression that staying holed up out of sight was safer. That meant they wouldn’t be out on the streets, especially the well-populated ones, and would stay away from the busier parts of the city in general. *Idiots. There’s no better place to lose a pursuer than in a crowd.*

Because they’d failed to kill their target- Ja’far suppressed a snarl at the thought, Sin should never be seen as a target, not ever again- they would be panicking. They’d find somewhere quiet and out of the way, and panic while they attempted to hammer out a new plan of attack. Because they would attack again, Ja’far had no doubts about that. Unless he killed them all first.

*Based on all that, I’m looking for somewhere out of the way- a building, or possibly a basement- that’s definitely on the larger side, well away from populated areas, somewhere they think the city guard wouldn’t look.* Possibilities bloomed in Ja’far’s mind, and under his mask he bared his teeth in a vicious smile. *You poor bastards. You couldn’t have made it easier for me to find you if you tried.*

On the northern side of the city, there was a relatively small collection of large, dilapidated building. Originally, they had been used as warehouses, holding the goods that were to be sold at the market. Unfortunately, it hadn’t taken long at all to realize that they were much too far away. The market was located in the southeast of the capital near the docks, where trade ships came and went constantly, to better attract customers. The storehouses were not only in almost the opposite direction, but were too far inland; it was a hassle at best to transport wares back and forth over that great a distance. You might as well move them to a different town.

New warehouses had since been constructed closer to the market, making the old ones obsolete. Most of the time, people didn’t even remember they existed. The only reason Ja’far remembered was because he’d had to go through the nightmare of sorting through the paperwork for the whole mess. Including the documents for their removal; but that needed Sin’s signature, and although the lackadaisical king had been much more responsible lately, there had hardly been time for him to go through everything that had piled up, and there were more important matters that should be seen to first…

All things aside, those particular papers were probably buried somewhere in a stack of almost identical ones in the unholy mess that was Sinbad’s office. And as the approval for their removal hadn’t been given yet, they were still standing. No one had reason to go there, it was a considerable distance from the scene of the crime, and all around the seemingly perfect hiding place for a band of would-be terrorists. Ja’far didn’t bother suppressing his dark smirk. *You would think that they’d have chosen an easier method of suicide. If a criminal makes it that effortless for anyone with brains to find them, they obviously have a death wish.*

Taking to the rooftops, he beelined for that section of his city. It wasn’t long before the buildings were fewer and a bit run down, and he slipped back down to street level to remain unseen, though now he wasn’t far from his destination. Large, obviously weathered structures loomed through the lengthening shadows, dark and intimidating. *I am an assassin. A creature so dark and deadly some have mistaken me for a monster out of the very depths of hell. The night is my ally, and I hold no fear of the dark!* Ja’far slunk through the shadows quickly and with an ease born as much from years of practice as from natural talent.

There weren’t many of the enormous storehouses; perhaps twenty at most. It was laughably easy to follow the faint sounds of men, out of place in the otherwise abandoned quarter. They lead Ja’far to a building somewhere near the center of the outdated stores; light spilled from cracks in the walls and doors. He circled the warehouse, noting possible ways of entry, before deciding on a larger hole on the edge of the roof. Wasting no time, he scaled the side of the building, and peered through the gap into the room beyond.

It was dimly lit and not well guarded, he noticed, and rather than about fifteen to twenty people, there were only twelve of them. Upon closer inspection, the men inside appeared to be little more than thugs; underlings, almost certainly. Ja’far frowned. *Where are the rest of them? There has to be more; Sin’s not that good at estimating numbers, but usually he’ll underestimate, not overestimate. No, the others have to be around here somewhere. Perhaps in a different building? If they’re just hashing out a plan, and haven’t decided for sure yet what they’re going to do, it would make sense for them to hold a separate, private meeting.*

Instead of climbing back down and circling around the storehouse, he leapt lightly across the roofs of the structures surrounding it, glancing through holes in the roof to try and spot the missing members. He found them in the building directly across from the first. There were only five of them, and two looked to be bodyguards for a third. The third man was sitting at the head of a small table, his hired muscle standing on either side of him, and listening to the last two argue. Ja’far only listened for about a minute before he was able to draw several conclusions.

*The man sitting at the head of the table- he’s the one in charge. Most likely he’s already decided what they’re going to do next, but the other two at the table are under the impression that it’s an equal partnership; so instead of flat out telling them, he’s nudging them in the direction he wants them to go, not saying much, to make them think it was their idea. Devious.* Then their words registered, and he stiffened, eyes going cold and hard as ice.

“That damn king needs to be removed, how’s a man supposed to make a living when-”  
“-we already tried killing him, it didn’t work! We’ll either have to make a more subtle attempt or find an… alternate route-”  
“The hell with your ‘alternate route’! That fucking Capturer needs to go! He’s too damn noble; you can’t so much as smuggle a fucking bowl without him kicking up a fuss, much less-”

*I*, Ja’far thought in a sudden blaze of fury, *have heard enough.* The situation and the motives behind it were rapidly making themselves clear. The men were slave traders, pure and simple, and he was not going to let this stand. They’d tried to get rid of Sin because he’d outlawed slavery, and that wasn’t good for business. So now they were taking matters into their own hands.

*I’ll take out the men in the other building, first. After that’s taken care of, I’ll come back here, kill the guards and the bickering slavers. The mastermind I’ll leave alive for now. I’m sure he’ll have some very enlightening information for me. I should be back at the palace before dawn; probably earlier, depending on how long it takes him to talk. Hopefully he’ll give in quickly- I’m a bit out of practice with those techniques, and I’d hate for him to die before he tells me everything I want to know.* Decided, Ja’far silently slipped away, back to the first warehouse, to begin his bloody work.


	3. Chapter 3

In the middle of debating whether to use poison or hire an assassin to kill Sindria’s king, the slavers paused. “Did you hear that?” One of them asked uncertainly. “Hear what?” The man sitting across from him retorted a bit too quickly. “Your nerves are probably still shot from earlier, coward. You’re hearing things-”  
A sound cut through the night air, interrupting him. The first man swallowed, and the bodyguards surrounding their silent companion shifted, glancing around warily. “You heard it that time, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question, but the second man snapped back anyway. “Shut up! None of us could tell what it was. It could have been a damn cat for all we know!”  
As if to contradict him, there was another noise, slightly different from the first but still recognizable. Almost immediately afterward, another followed. Then another, and another, until they filled the room faintly but completely with all too human pain and horror-  
As suddenly as they had started, the cries stopped. No one at the table could meet each other's eyes. The silent slaver stood, and made as if to leave. “Hold on! Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” The second man demanded. “We don’t know what the hell is out there, or what the fuck is going on! Besides that, we’re not done here-”  
“I think you will find that we are done.” For a moment, the two still at the table could do no more than gape at him. In the time they had known this mysterious man, he had spoken no more than a handful of words, relying on his henchmen to get his point across. They had let him join their planning sessions because he supplied the funds they needed. Now- “I intended to allow you your delusions, but it seems we have run out of time.”   
The man gestured to his guards, and they moved to flank him, preparing to leave. “We’ll go the poison route. Our contact is much less conspicuous than an assassin, and they won’t be expecting anything from that angle. For now, we must leave at once. It’s true that we don’t know what’s out there, but whatever or whoever it is almost certainly is aware that we are in here. I’ll contact you at a later date to give you the rest of the details at an alternate location-”  
“Will you, now?” Everyone stiffened. That voice had seemed to come from everywhere. The was tone soft and hissing as a snake’s, with all its deadly implications. “I would be most interested in your details.” A chilling laugh. “Well, perhaps not those in particular-” From the shadows, two silver-colored blurs shot out, each finding a home in the heart of a guard. “-seeing as you won’t be carrying out that plan.”  
Steel retracted, back and- up? The three men slowly raised their heads to the warehouse’s ceiling. There, in the rafters. A darker shadow, blending with the rest but somehow different. The shadow lengthened- straightened?- and broke away from the rest, stopping just inside of the faint candlelight. And the slavers froze, unable to even think through the terror in their veins.  
It wasn’t very tall, but they hardly noticed. What they did notice was this- it was humanoid, dressed in dark clothes, darker patches catching the light oddly where blood stained them. It was holding a triangular knife, dripping with scarlet, in each hand. And its eyes were terrifying, the only visible part of its face, gleaming with satisfaction and cruel delight.  
“...demon,” the first man barely breathed. The thing’s eyes snapped toward him, and he flinched back so strongly he almost fell, emitting a brief shriek. All was still and silent a moment longer, the slavers motionless in fear, and the monster’s eyes watching them, waiting. The second man broke first.  
With a curse and what almost sounded like a sob, he burst into motion, running for the door. Before he’d taken four steps, the demon- it had to be a demon, what else could it be- threw the knife in its left hand with deadly accuracy, burying it in the fleeing man’s spine. He fell with a choked scream, moments later becoming completely still and silent as his lifeblood stained the ground.  
The two still alive stared in horror, finally understanding with awful clarity the situation they were in. There was no escape. There was no mercy. All that was left for them was death, death at the hands of a demon. The first man’s knees gave out, and he collapsed to the floor, tears flowing down his cheeks and terrified sobs shaking his shoulders. “Kill me,” he whispered. “Kill me, kill me, kill me- gods, if you’re going to do it just get it over with-!”  
The second blade buried itself in his neck, and he slumped to the ground, face still streaked with tears and marked with fear. The demon recalled its weapons, and turned to the last man, the only one still living. He stumbled back, away from his dead companions, away from the door, away from the monster who’d slaughtered them all-  
The creature let him back away, tilting its head to regard him. It leaned forward. And kept leaning. The man couldn’t tear his eyes away from the beast, finding himself in the grip of a horrified fascination. It wasn’t- surely it didn’t intend to-  
At the last moment, instead of jerking itself back, the demon threw itself forward, towards the ground. The man let out a shout despite himself. As it hit the floor, the creature rolled, absorbing the impact and turning it into momentum, unfolding and coming to its feet directly in front of him. He jerked backwards, scrambling to get away, and his back hit the wall. His mind went blank with terror.  
The demon almost leisurely walked towards him, cold triumph glinting from those eyes. He slid down the wall, sure his life was about to be ended. It reached him, and crouched down to look him full in the face. “Now,” it said calmly, conversationally. “Earlier you mentioned details. I’d be very interested in hearing the ones concerning your attack on the king today.” His face drained of color. It couldn’t be implying what he thought it was. “You-” he managed. He tried again. “You- you want to- to know-”   
“How you accomplished it. Who your contact is. If you have any spies, and if so, their names. Any and all relevant information regarding the attack.” The creature tilted its head, giving the impression that beneath the cloth concealing its face, it was smiling. “The more quickly and truthfully you answer, the less pain you’ll be in. And the quicker you die. If you lie, or refuse to answer, I’ll draw out your death that much longer.” It straightened, and sat back. “Start talking.”  
Heart pounding in his chest, terror sinking into his bones, he started talking.

 

 

Interlude: Sinbad  
Sinbad, King of Sindria, conqueror of seven dungeons and master of seven djinn, founder of the Seven Seas Alliance, paced worriedly in his chambers. The night drew on, darker and darker, and his advisor was nowhere to be found. They had terrorists in their city, people had actually broken into the palace and tried to kill him, and Ja’far was missing.  
He blew out a frustrated breath. He trusted Ja’far. Of course he did! And he knew his General could take care of himself. That wasn’t the point. The point was that his advisor was out there, at night, without backup, and Sin didn’t even know where he was. He felt like screaming. Ja’far knew what he was doing, yes. He was a capable and dangerous individual, true.  
But that didn’t mean that he could take off, in the middle of the day, while Sin was distracted- being responsible for once!- and not so much as leave a note explaining where he’d gone! He just couldn’t! What they needed his help with something? What if the attackers came back and with more numbers? What if they came back with bombs? What if Ja’far needed their help and they couldn’t get to him because they had no idea where the hell he was and he died-!  
Sin wheeled around, starting for the door, and stopped himself- for the forty-third time. Because maybe Ja’far needed help. But it was unlikely. And if his wayward advisor came back, while Sin was gone out looking for him- well. He wouldn’t be worried anymore. He also wouldn’t be breathing anymore.  
“Sin, I’m going out.”  
“Yes, Ja’far,” the king muttered under his breath. “But where, exactly, are you going?!” Gods, that had thrown him for a loop. He’d been trying to at least calm down the argument between Yam and Sharrkan, and hadn’t really noticed Ja’far striding past him. As soon as he’d heard his General’s voice, though, he’d looked up- and seen that his advisor really didn’t look like his advisor at the moment.  
He’d been dressed in loose, comfortable, dark clothes, and Sin had had the uncomfortable fleeting thought that Ja’far was dressed for war. Then, as Ja’far’s words had actually registered, the man had thrown himself out the window. Okay, so he hadn’t really thrown himself, exactly, Sin admitted. But he’d definitely… made a dramatic exit. He- wasn’t going to lie. He’d panicked a little.  
“Ja’far? Ja’far, wait! Wait! Where are you going?! Ja’far?!”  
Maybe more than a little. The king sighed. By the time he’d managed to get across the room and to the window, his advisor had disappeared. And then Yamhad declared she was going to locate the terrorists, snatched up Sharrkan’s sword for the blood on it, and left for her workshop. Sharrkan, swearing and insulting her every other breath, had followed, demanding she give him back his weapon. The rest of his Generals had dispersed, going to prepare to confront the men or get back to doing their jobs.  
And Sinbad had been left in the throne room alone, staring out the window, and worrying about Ja’far. Nearly twelve hours later, he was still worrying. Yam had a location for his attackers, and it wasn’t changing. They planned to go confront them in the morning. Sin paused, considering, then nodded to himself firmly. He’d give Ja’far until morning to get back. If he wasn’t in the palace by then, he would leave the terrorists to his Generals and go looking for the man himself.  
And Solomon help anyone who got in his way.


	4. Chapter 4

The moon was high overhead by the time Ja’far crawled back through his window, splattered with blood and satisfied with his work. It’d taken both more time than he thought and less time than he’d feared for the slaver to talk- admittedly, he’d done things a little slower than usual since he was out of practice. _I should do this more often, _the advisor mused. _There’s something incredibly relaxing about taking care of a threat myself. _Actually, he felt better than he had in months, all the tension drained out of him. Apparently assassination was an excellent destresser.____  
Ja’far shook his head at his thoughts, amused despite himself. He was relaxed, but not very tired; he felt, in fact, extremely alert. _Ready for anything. _He tried not to giggle. That would be undignified. But honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this… free. Free from responsibility. Free from the polite mask he kept up, day after day. Free from the political niceties and social restraint of _no, you can’t kill them, no matter how annoying they get and useless they are. _____  
Ja’far enjoyed his job most of the time. Was proud of the position he held. But sometimes the pressure of deadlines and the feeling of _First Advisor _actually meaning _glorified babysitter _pressed down on him until he wanted to scream or kill something. And he hadn’t gotten to do either. _Except I just did. _The General gave a tiny, wicked smile, and walked over to his wardrobe. _Can’t leave evidence lying around… shame, these were a good purchase. I’ll have to see if I can find out when that merchant next makes port. _Stripping off the bloodstained garments, he dumped them into the empty fireplace. He slipped on a robe, and padded silently down the hall to the baths.________  
Ten minutes later, he was back in his chambers, freshly scrubbed, properly dressed, and pouring lamp oil over the bundle of cloth in the fireplace. Taking his flint, he lit it, watching to make sure it burned to ashes. When it was done, he gathered them up in a small bag to later scatter in the gardens. _You can never be too careful, after all. _Sighing, he made his way over to his desk. There was a spy in the palace, and he’d have to speak to Sharrkan and Masrur about increasing the perimeter guard. Really, it was just embarrassing they hadn’t noticed the men watching their patrol routes.__  
Ja’far stretched briefly, then settled himself at his desk. The only reason he wasn’t drowning in paperwork like Sin was because he spent most of his day making sure he got everything done. He was _not _going to let it pile up, regardless of the circumstances, which meant that unless he wanted to spend all day tomorrow barricaded in his office, he’d better do some now. _I’ll deal with the spy tomorrow, _he decided, smoothing a document and setting out his ink. _From what the slaver told me, I very much doubt they’re spying of their own free will, but it’s best to make sure. _The assassin’s eyes narrowed. _Because no one will be killing my king. _________  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Ja’far strode down the hall toward the dining area, suppressing a yawn. He’d ended up only getting a couple hours of sleep, between the paperwork and planning how to deal with the spy. _Hindsight has perfect vision, as they say. I should have gone to sleep earlier, _he berated himself. He paused, frowning slightly. _Strange. I thought I heard something just now. _“...far…” _There! Wait a minute, I know that voice… _The advisor spun around just in time for a purple-and-gold blur to slam into him. “JA’FAR!”_  
Said man wheezed in response, the breath having been knocked out of him. “Ja’far, you’re back! I’m so glad you’re alright, I had no idea where you were and the others wouldn’t let me go look for you!” Sinbad rambled. “You know, it’s a little dangerous right now with those terrorist-whoevers running around loose, you could’ve gotten hurt! You’re not hurt, are you?” the king worried, stepping back to look his advisor over.  
Ja’far squirmed out of the hold his friend had on his shoulders, a bit exasperated. “I’m fine. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Besides, the ‘terrorist-whoevers’ aren’t a problem anymore. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I intend to have breakfast, and then I have some paperwork to take care of.” He turned and resumed walking down the hall, leaving Sinbad to trail after him.  
“I know you can take care of yourself!” Sin protested. “I just worry, is all- wait. Wait, what? What do you mean they’re ‘not a problem anymore’? They attacked the palace, how is that not a problem?!” Ja’far turned his head to meet the king’s eyes. “Exactly what I said,” he returned evenly, and permitted himself a small smirk. “They are _not a problem anymore _, Sin.”  
Sinbad opened his mouth to continue questioning him, and then seemed to register the look on his General’s face. And what it might mean. Slowly, he closed his mouth, paling slightly. Ja’far could almost see him very carefully decide to drop the subject and leave it far, far behind, where it would hopefully never reach his nightmares. _Would you look at that- he _can _be taught, _the assassin snickered inwardly. Cheered, he went on through the corridors, his king shooting him wary glances, until they reached the dining hall.  
Sin snapped out of it, bursting into the room exuberantly. “Ja’far’s back!” he announced happily. Only a few Generals were currently in the room; Pisti, Masrur, and Sharrkan. Ja’far assumed Yamuraiha was still in her workshop, but couldn’t guess where the others might be. Pisti huffed, not really caring, and he gave her a nod as she flounced out of the room, apparently not in the mood to deal with Sinbad today.  
“Ja’far!” Sharrkan greeted him. “Nice to see you around today. Where were you, anyway?” he inquired, oblivious to the panicked look and various ‘no’ signs Sin was giving him. “Sinbad was going nuts- I think the only reason he didn’t go out looking for you was because you’d have killed him if you came back and he wasn’t here.” Ja’far looked him straight in the eye, and smiled coolly. “Just taking care of some rather urgent… _business _.”  
Sharrkan swallowed, unnerved but unable to really put his finger on why. “...Right. Well, Yamuraiha did something magic to track the bastards who attacked us yesterday, and it doesn’t look like they’ve gone anywhere so far. We were going to go after them this morning. Want to came?” he offered. Ja’far suppressed the smirk he felt at the thought of the other Generals stumbling onto the mess he left behind. “No, thank you,” he demurred. “I have paperwork to catch up on, since I was gone yesterday. But you all _have fun _.”  
The others shivered at the tone in his voice. Ja’far was laughing at them, inside. When was the last time he messed with them? He used to do it to Sin and Hinahoho all the time… When had he stopped? When had that changed? He had a suspicion it was around the same time being Sindria’s Advisor began to consume him. _No more. I should start being _myself _more often. I mean really, Sinbad’s nearly forgotten what the assassin brat he took in was like, and that just won’t do. Reminding him will be good for him, _the assassin plotted. _If it doesn’t give him a heart attack, that is. ______________________


	5. Chapter 5

Sinbad and the rest of his generals disappeared shortly after breakfast, presumably to go after the terrorists. Part of Ja’far wished he was going with them- if only to see the looks on their faces, and snicker quietly from the shadows. But, the advisor reminded himself, he had more important things to do at the palace. He’d mostly caught up on his paperwork, having worked on it the night before after he’d returned from his… errand. There was always more to be done, of course, but it could wait a bit. Just now… he had a spy to take care of.  
Ja’far rose from his desk, exiting his office and heading down the hall towards the servant’s quarters. The palace had no shortage of personnel; there were at least four, probably five, for every one noble. If he’d had to discover the mole himself, with next to no information to go on… it was likely he wouldn’t have been able to before another attack occurred. Fortunately for him, the slaver had been more than willing to throw his plant to the wolves.  
Almost eager, in fact, the assassin smirked to himself, though anyone in that amount of pain- well, I can’t exactly blame him. And now I know exactly who I’m looking for. He reached his destination, and strode a bit farther down the corridor, making one more left before finding the correct room. Entering, he settled in a corner, eyes on the door, to wait.  
It didn’t take very long.  
The spy hurried into the small chamber, looking around the room in an attempt to locate something- probably something forgotten in the rush to get ready earlier that morning. Their gaze fell on him, and they froze in surprise. “Hello, Najwa,” Ja’far greeted calmly.  
The girl was a mousy little thing of sixteen, all wide, brown eyes and thin, pale limbs. She was shy, too, almost to the point of social ineptitude; she often stuttered. She frequently became incapable of speech almost entirely when confronted with an authority figure, letting her long chestnut hair fall in front of her face as if to shield herself. But despite everything, she had always been unfailingly polite and painfully earnest, doing her her best at whatever chore she’d been assigned. Ja’far knew his peers saw her as something of a pet- something to be protected and spoiled and taken care of. Najwa had always given him the impression of someone who collected her friends and held them close to her heart, quietly brave and willing to protect those she considered dear.  
He wouldn’t have pegged her as a spy, and he wasn’t often wrong in that regard.  
“Do you know why I’m here, Najwa?” the advisor asked quietly. The girl swallowed hard and shook her head slightly, still staring in shock and growing fear. Ja’far sighed, and pushed off the wall he’d been leaning against, crossing the room to stand directly in front of her. “I’m here,” he began, “because I… spoke… with a certain man about the recent attack on the king.”  
Najwa flinched, face going pale and her whole body drawing in on itself as if she were trying to disappear into nothing. Her hands were shaking. “This man was, in fact, the mastermind of the attack,” he continued, and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “Well… emphasis on was, now, I suppose.”  
The girl’s head snapped up from where it had been sinking to look at the ground, and she almost jerked forward. “Was? Y-you m-mean… h-he’s dead? Really, truly dead?” Najwa gasped out. Ja’far didn’t know what surprised him more- the fact that she’d actually managed to speak to him with minimal stuttering, or the growing hope mingled with despair he could see in her eyes. He quickly collected himself, and after a moment to carefully consider his options, he answered.  
“He is. I made quite sure of that. However, there were certain pieces of information he possessed that he shouldn’t have, and I also made quite sure that he told me the name of the person who’d given it him,” the assassin replied coolly, and paused. “Najwa, the name he gave me was yours.”  
Tears filled the young girl’s eyes, and her shoulders shook; but she straightened as much as she could, and spoke anyway. “T-t-that… is c-correct,” she choked out. “I… I t-told him about t-the p-patrols around the p-perimeter… a-and where t-the king w-was likely to be at that t-time… I d-didn’t want t-to, you all h-have b-been so k-kind to me, but I…” For a moment, Najwa put her face in her hands and sobbed. Then she visibly pulled herself together, tears still running down her face and present in her voice, but determined to finish… and miserably resigned.  
“I have n-no excuse for m-my actions. What I d-did was wrong, and,” she swallowed, “t-treasonous… but if I c-could go back and change w-what I did… I wouldn’t. I c-couldn’t. N-not because of me. It’s t-true that… t-that man threatened t-to kill me, but i-if it was just my life…” She swallowed again, and for the first time looked directly into his eyes.  
“If it was just m-my life on the l-line, I would rather h-have died than betray Sindria- b-betray the king. But- the slaver h-had my little sister. H-he said if I d-didn’t tell him, he’d s-sell her.” She looked at him pleadingly. “P-please. Y-you can throw m-me in the d-dungeons, o-or execute me… I deserve i-it, I know I d-do. But please. P-please, save my s-sister! She’s d-done nothing wrong! Y-you can even lock m-me up until y-you know for s-sure that I’m telling the truth! But I don’t know where she i-is, and now h-he’s dead, and she could g-get sold-”  
“Calm down,” Ja’far interrupted, alarmed. “Najwa, I know you. I’m a very good judge of character- I have to be, in my line of work. You’ve worked here for quite some time, and I’ve heard you talk about your sister before- I believe you were telling Pisti about her at the time. I understand your need to protect her. However,” he looked at her sternly, “if something like this were to ever happen again, you come to me and tell me about it. Taking care of this on your own is a noble idea, but in practice it would have worsened the situation until many more people were hurt, including the king and the Generals.” Najwa looked close to sobbing again, and he sighed.  
“I’m not going to lock you up. I am going to have you followed for a while, just as a precaution, but that’s for your sake as well as the king’s. And,” he held a hand up when she looked as though she wanted to interrupt, “I will look for your sister, and return her safely to you, should it be within my ability.”  
“Thank you,” she breathed, eyes closing in relief, the tears finally beginning to lessen.  
“I can’t guarantee anything,” he cautioned. “I can only promise to try.” The girl shook her head, gratefulness still apparent. “No,” she insisted. “You’re ch-choosing to do this p-personally, e-even though you d-don’t have to. A-and I have to believe she’ll be okay. S-she’s all I have left in t-the world… I c-can’t lose her too.” Utterly trusting brown eyes locked onto his. “I kn-know that if she c-can be saved, y-you can do it. I kn-know it.”  
What the hell did I do for her to trust me this much?! Ja’far wondered. I was vaguely threatening almost the entire time, and I told her there were no guarantees, and I as much flat out admitted to killing a man! Well, he considered, she did know he was a bastard, and he did take her sister… but still! That’s not a very normal reaction! A thought occurred to him, then. Wait. She was that man’s informant for at least a week. During that time, she was around me often, and I didn’t even suspect what she was doing. Nodding to Najwa and turning to leave, he considered that, and an idea began to take shape in his mind.  
She’d need training. She told me everything with barely a prompt- I’d have to break her of that. And she’s much older than I’d prefer for something like this… but the talent is there. And the position as a maid is perfect- servants hear everything, it’d be idea; for infiltration. She’s no stranger to hard work, either, and she has something, someone, she’s willing to die- or kill, I’d bet- to protect. The assassin smiled. Of course, first I’d have to convince Sin that we really could use a spy ring, and that it absolutely wouldn’t be used for corrupt purposes, but that should be fairly easy, and after that… Najwa would make a rather brilliant first recruit, I believe.  
His smile turned into a smirk as he neared his office. Speaking of Sin… I wonder how he and the others are getting along?

 

Interlude: Sinbad  
Sinbad followed Yamuraiha along with his Generals- save Ja’far, who was working again- through the twisting streets of Sindria’s capital. They were almost to their destination; he could see the roofs of the warehouses from where they were trekking up the road. Sure enough, a few minutes later they were standing in front of the indicated building, its doors directly in front of them. But faced with the entrance now- the king felt all of his previous excitement and eagerness drained away, only to be replaced with a faint feeling of foreboding.  
“They’re not a problem anymore, Sin.”  
Sinbad shivered slightly at that recent memory, and wondered why he’d thought of it just then. It wasn’t like Ja’far to dismiss a threat so casually, of course. Not one that had actually succeeded in attacking if not harming his king. Actually, thinking about it, his advisor never dismissed any kind of threat casually, not unless he’d already taken care of it himself-  
Sin’s thoughts screeched to a halt as the possibility his mind had been desperately trying to ignore finally presented itself, and he felt himself pale as he reviewed the evidence that it might have possibly actually been what happened.  
Fact. Ja’far had been extremely angry (and probably worried) about the attack yesterday.  
Fact. Ja’far had very shortly disappeared afterward. Out of the same window and in the same general direction as the terrorists, now that he thought about it more clearly.  
Fact. Ja’far had then been gone the rest of the day and probably a good portion of the night as well.  
Fact. This morning Ja’far had been incredibly calm and even nonchalant about the whole thing, despite his reaction the day before, and had declined to accompany them in their pursuit of Sin’s attackers.  
Fact. ...This warehouse was very, very quiet and giving him a very, very bad feeling. Sin did not want to go in there at all.  
He was somewhat gratified to see Hina and Drakon giving the building similar wary, slightly horrified looks. They didn’t want to go in either. For the moment he had before the truth was revealed, he wondered why the rest didn’t react like Hina, Drakon, and himself. He remembered just as Yamu threw open the doors that none of the others had known Ja’far as a tiny terrifying assassin oh no-  
There was an absolutely horrified silence. Sinbad wished he was surprised, but no, there was only horror at the scene before them, slight nausea, and the sinking realization that his awful suspicion had been right.  
Bodies were strewn almost carelessly across the floor, like they were only dolls a child had suddenly grown bored of playing with. (Sin very firmly pushed that metaphor out of his mind after it gave him several utterly terrifying mental images involving Ja’far and Ja’far’s knives.) Blood was everywhere, soaked into the floor and painting the walls. Weapons were scattered all over, only a few in their owners’ cold hands.  
Letting his eyes linger on the bodies a bit longer and pushing down his urge to throw up, the king saw what he’d been afraid of- knife wounds, slashed throats, and more than one seemed to be sporting lightning burns. 

“What- how- who the hell did this?!” Sharrkan burst out, looking pale and slightly green.  
Actually, looking around, most of them looked that way. The few who didn’t looked like they were in shock. Sinbad met Hina and Drakon’s eyes. They came to a silent agreement. “Who knows?” he shrugged, and glanced again at the carnage. “But whoever it was helped us out and they don’t seem to be hanging around. I, for one, don’t think I’d want to meet them if they were. Let’s head back.”

Somehow, Sin decided as they slowly began the return to the palace, somehow he just knew Ja’far was laughing at them.


End file.
